Love's Labour Lost
by coldqueen
Summary: Finished. Huntress is forced to choose between Question and Captian Atom for the last time, and someone is gonna end up hurting, no matter what she decides.
1. In Denial

Woot woot! FINAL! STORY! IN! TRILOGY!

A/N: It's not strictly necessary to read the second story, "Taming of the Shrew", however it is necessary to read the first "The Tempest" before reading this, the final story in my _Huntress_ Trilogy. So...that recommendation done...I give you, my faithful readers...

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_**Love's Labours Lost

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**_

Helena Bertinelli was not a nice woman. By association, neither was Huntress.

_Dear Helena..._

To compensate for this inward viciousness, much of said negative emotions were fueled into Huntress. Helena was a sweet-mannered kindergarten teacher, and Huntress was a tough-as-nails, balls-to-the-wall vigilante. In a world full of happy-go-lucky, justice and the American way superheroes, Huntress was one of few who took "An eye for an eye" to heart. This, more than anything, made it almost impossible for other "heroes" to work with and be around her. She was the truth of their hearts, and what they really wanted. She was the one thing most of them could never be, and never really wanted to be, but secretly were glad that someone had the guts to be. In the face of that, it's no wonder she didn't stick it in the Justice League.

_In a world where no secret is safe from me, not even your lies hold up to the light._

Truth, lies, two sides of the same coin. Helena almost sounded like Two-Face on this subject. Lying and truth, two sides of every hero. To be truthful and to be on the side of justice, are one and the same to many. For many heroes, to be on the side of justice, means to lie, to smear the truth, until it's impossible to tell who you are...Helena? Or Huntress? As Fyodor Dostoyevsky said, "Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others." Huntress doesn't lie. Never has. Truth is one of her most strong weapons. She refuses to hide things, because in lies, only the dark wins.

_You wanted to hurt me. I can see this. You said things with the deliberate intention to hurt me._

Helena was only a human, though. She hurt, she loved, she bled. When Huntress was out in the city, beating criminals, exacting justice, taking blows without a flinch, it was Helena who came home and soaked the bruises. Helena who cried when she forced her arm back into its socket. Helena who felt the pain of losing the innocent. Huntress could be aloof and silent in the night, dancing in the shadows with a sardonic and slightly self-deprecating smile; it was Helena who cried for the lost children, and Helena who mourned hope and its frequent abandonment of her city. Such a play between two sides of truth. For many, they would break, unable to take the massive emotions that twisted and blossomed when leading this life. For Helena, it wasn't a double life. It was one live divided. She was both, uncaring Huntress, and repentant Helena. Sometimes, she was both at the same time, both vengeful and hurt. Vulnerable. She'd like to blame that for what she'd done. Inside, truth mocks, and Helena knows it was all her.

_After you left, I immediately called up my sources, who reported that it wasn't true, what you'd told me. The probabilities and simulations support that._

She'd never trusted men, Helena or Huntress. It all went back to her daddy issues. Daddy left her at home with the nanny for most of her childhood. Where Daddy went, Mommy followed. When Daddy died, Mommy still followed. Daddy goneno Daddy lovemale authority figure issues. Or so $3300 in psychology bills told her. Truth, again, was that Helena didn't trust anyone. Who could ever promise not to hurt her? Not to die? Not a one. Or at least, no one capable of making that promise was making it. There were certain heroes who were either immortal or indestructible, but they meant nothing to her. She wanted those she loved to make those promises. She wanted those she wanted to make those promises. Perhaps, that was why, even hesitant as she was to love, she did love and with reckless abandon. Her heart may not be on her sleeve, but it was equally vulnerable locked deep in her chest.

_I can only deduce you don't want me. You don't want my words, my apologies, or my love. I accept that...and move past. I've never given up before._

Helena didn't like to be hurt. She hated it. When someone she loved hurt her, it was so much worse. Rage, pain, betrayal, humiliation. All of it. She didn't forgive. There were no second chances with her. You either were, or you weren't. It was the only way to exist for Helena. Almost everything in her life was a dual. Good, and evil. Dark and light. Pain and pleasure. For her, it was stark. There was no blurring of the lines. No compromise, no adaptation, no shades of gray. Black and white. No forgiveness.

_I won't give up now. I won't try to see you, given your history of violence. I quit like my face...what there is of it, where it is._

She'd lied to Question, when she'd told him she was marrying her boyfriend Captain Atom. Helena had lied to hurt him. She'd wanted him to feel that burn in his stomach, that pain, that rage that so consumed her. He'd hurt her, and she'd responded. It was instinctive for her. Cause and reaction.

_I'm not giving up, being of the persistent sort. I love you._

Helena balled the note she'd found taped to her mirror in her hand. She hated him. With a passion. She wanted out, to move on. She was happy for the first time in a long time, no stipulations or lines attached. Nathaniel made her happy. Question hadn't made her happy. He'd made her angry, lustful, sad, and all sorts of things. She wanted a bit of peace in her life. Just a bit.

Sighing, heavily as usual, Helena climbed into bed. It was soft, comfy, and just what she needed after an eighteen hour day, ten at school, and another eight in the streets. She was sore, slightly bruised, and slightly covered in glitter (can you say arts and crafts?). She hadn't wanted this damn note. She hadn't wanted that damn man. She wanted to sleep. To rest. To not dream of him for once in this fucking week. To not dream at all.

_Love, __Vic

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WOOT WOOT! FIRST CHAPTER! YAY!


	2. In Mourning

Sorry for the long delay between updates. Long story...(short storyme broke computer).

Anyways...

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It was cold, damp, and exceedingly gloomy...perfect day for a funeral.

_Dearest Helena..._

She didn't want to be here, but being a bitch only gets you so far when trying to get out of your duties to friends. Despite everything they'd been through, or rather because of it, Dinah was Helena's friend, so she came. She came to provide what little support she could to the small blonde. Helena can only assume that many of the Justice League also came for the same reasons.

_...I found one of your arrows in my bedroom yesterday..._

Dinah was in the front row, Superman, as Clark Kent, and Wonder Woman beside her. Ollie hadn't had any family, so Dinah had taken care of the arrangements. It'd taken a while to get the permission from his estate for this funeral, given the circumstances.

_...it reminded me of good times..._

Ollie was being buried in the first "super" cemetery, constructed in the highest security and quality, a memorial to all those who'd come before and died for the Earth. There were several other heroes buried there. Helena hadn't known any of them. Come to think of it, she hadn't really known Green Arrow. She was here for Black Canary. She was here for Nathaniel. Captain Atom, her boyfriend of four months was beside her. Crying. It took all she had not to smile, but that wasn't really saying much in this crowd. Most of the people here didn't think she was worth much anyways.

_...remember when we broke into the Daily Planet so I could find out who their informant was on the Luther Court case? It was Luther himself..._

Helena had been dating Nate longer than she'd ever dated Q. He was easy, comforting, and that was something she thinks she needs right now. Even as that thought comes to her, Nate smiles, and leans over to brush his blue lips against her cheek. She cuddles into him, not caring about the stares they receive. She's not dressed as Huntress today, but rather as Helena, having had to rush here from work. So she's hugging a slightly see-through blue man...who cares?

_...a fact which I believe you found quite funny..._

The last funeral Helena had attended had been her mother's. She'd been buried next to Helena's father, with the joint tombstone reading, "Together forever in death". Helena's parents had loved each other far more than they'd loved her. It was a recurring problem in her life. People she loved, often loved something else more. Nathaniel was the one exception to that, so far. She wasn't counting her odds though. There was always something.

_...we had good times together..._

It was over finally, everyone standing around and talking. She didn't want to be here, but she stayed, holding his hand, watching as Dinah sobbed in the front row. At first, some of them had tried to comfort her, but finally they gave up (a right hook from the petite chick could do that). Helena, not knowing why, slowly approached Dinah. If circumstances had been different, it would be herself getting buried today. Instead, she'd survived. Quirky little facts of fate.

_...something tells me we'll have more..._

"Dinah?"

She doesn't answer, perhaps not hearing her. Several heroes close by stop speaking, watching as the tainted one, herself, approached the widow, for despite them not being married, Ollie and Dinah had been devoted to one another, more so than most of the super-couples ever would be. If there ever was a widow for Ollie, it would have been Dinah.

Helena kneeled in front of Dinah, slowly wrapping her hands around Dinah's wrists, drawing her arms down, until she could see Dinah's face. "Dinah?"

Through red-rimmed eyes, their gazes connected, and Dinah threw herself into Helena's arms, sobbing if possible even harder. This seemed to surprise most people, given Dinah and Helena's violent history. Over Dinah's head, Helena caught Nate's eye, and he strode over to help her. Together, they got Dinah to their car.

_...I can only hope we'll have more..._

The ride home is quiet, Dinah having collapsed into an exhausted but disturbed sleep. She moaned a little, cried some more, but eventually quieted down. She'd stay in Helena's guest room for the night. Nate would stay in Helena's room, with her. Sometimes, the quiet can be disturbing, sometimes comforting. As Nate reached across the drive shift and held her hand, it was not without its comfort, but it was still disturbing. How did she come here? To be with the two least likely people from the League. How did she come to be here? Did she want to go back?

_...I can only hope a lot of things..._

Nathaniel carried Dinah into the guest room, disappearing into the kitchen while Helena fussed. She made sure Dinah was covered, made sure that a light was on, in case she woke, brought a glass of water and some valium just in case, as well. With a sigh, Helena closed the door and turned to her darkened apartment. There were relics of her past here. Several equestrian awards from her childhood were on a table in the corner, as well as the family bible, and several history books about Italy and her family. There were many things of the present here. Her gradebook, papers needing to be graded, her mask. Nate stepped out of the kitchen, slightly illuminating the dark room, waiting for her to make her move. He was her future. The path she'd chosen. She was determined to make it work.

Nate held out his hand to her, and she walked to him. Together, they removed their clothes and crawled into bed. Together, they slept.

_Love, Vic.

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Woot woot! Second chapter. More to come, VERY soon.


	3. Indefinable

No reviews for last chapter...(sob)

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_Huntress..._

Black Canary left the Justice League. Said there were too many memories there. She couldn't return to the apartment she'd stayed with Ollie in, either, deciding to stay with Helena as she searched for a new place. Helena and Barbara (read former Batgirl) had gone to gather things for her. Clothes, books, dishware. Things that were on the list Dinah had given them. Helena had also put a picture of Dinah and Ollie at some sort of function grinning happily into the frame in as well. Days later, she'd find it on the hallway floor, dent about it, and glass broken around it. She'd take it to get fixed, and she'd put it back in Dinah's bedroom. It hadn't gotten thrown again.

_...I've resolved to call you that from now on..._

Dinah spent her days going to shoots, deciding to focus some time on her model career again. Magazines called her new look "haunting" and "irrevocably sad", but "beautiful". Those words had been about a gig she'd done for GAP. Needless to say, Dinah hadn't been called back again, despite how well the images were received. GAP could only say that that wasn't the look they were going for.

_...I must distance myself from you..._

The time Dinah wasn't at a shoot, and Helena wasn't at school, they spent at the recently injured Barbara's apartment. Now going by the name Oracle, Barbara was a glorified librarian. She decided that fighting from a wheelchair wasn't her thing, and started to gather information. Sometimes, she sold it for money. Most of the time, she reported crimes and other such things. Rarely, anything was done. It was on one of these days that Helena and Dinah were watching movies and eating ice cream on her couch when a sudden inspiration took Barbara.

"I love my father, but Gotham police are inept."

What a shocker.

_...You taint everything I do..._

Barbara turned from the megaplex of computer equipment she'd acclimated and rolled herself in front of the television, earning moans and groans from Helena and Dinah. "I have an idea."

Helena laughed. "Babe, you're a brain. You always have an idea."

Dinah laughed lightly as well. She hadn't laughed "laughed" since the funeral. She was a monotone, monochrome wonder.

"No, a real idea. None of us are affiliated with any teams right now, and we're all helping out Gotham any way we can, but what if we did it together?"

Helena cocked her head, halfway in interest, halfway to watch as David Boreanaz took off his shirt on yet another TV show. "Form a new Batfam?"

Barbara shook her head. "No. No Bat connections. Just us."

_...You taint me..._

"If it pisses off Batman, I'm in."

Barbara shook her head in consternation. "It's not about pissing off Bruce."

Helena smiled. "Maybe not for you."

Dinah finally contributed something to the conversation. "What would we call ourselves?"

Good question.

_...sometimes I feel you inside my head. Circling like a vulture, just waiting for me to weaken..._

"Well...I've decided I'm going to call myself Oracle."

Helena studied the redhead in front of the television. "How about we call you 'brain' since you're obviously the head of this little flock?"

She shook her head. "No. Oracle."

Helena grinned. "You just want to be a Roman/Greek deity."

"I've always imagined myself slightly goddess-like."

"More like Medusa, babe."

Dinah laughed silently at the two squabbling women. Though there'd been some tough moments when the two first started meeting regularly, both having been with Nightwing and having fought for many years over Gotham; they were both her friends and had put it aside.

"I believe we were discussing a name?"

"Well, since Red over here is a 'goddess', why don't we call ourselves something mythical?"

Barbara laughed. "Sometimes, the fact that you're a kindergarten teacher is so clear."

"What does that mean?"

"Sometimes, you're simple."

"Bitch."

_...I won't beg. I refuse..._

"So...we've got an Oracle, a Black Canary, and the wonderful modest Huntress...who are we?"

Oracle thought. Hard. "We're hunters. For justice. I'm tired of always having to wait for justice to be wrought out. I don't want to play it restrained and non-violent as Batman has trained me to do. I want justice. Real justice."

Huntress cocked an eyebrow. "Does this mean I get to shoot people?"

"No."

"Non-fatally shoot people?"

"Yes."

Dinah thought outloud. "Well...we've got...a Canary, which is a bird..."

"You're so smart."

"...and a Huntress..."

"Another excellent point."

"And an Oracle...which is like an owl..."

"(sigh)"

_...I won't beg, not even for you..._

"Birds of prey."

Barbara and Helena stopped in their witty repartee and turned to Dinah. They both stared for a minute before nodding. "Sounds good. Though, I think calling ourselves the Furies would have really intimidated."

"And Bird of Prey doesn't?"

"No."

"It's a serious category of bird. They eat other birds."

"Who's going to seriously be afraid of a bird...no offense, Canary."

"Plenty of people are afraid of birds."

"No, they're afraid of getting shit on by birds."

_...I love you, Huntress..._

Dinah watched as her friends argued for the better part of an hour. Eventually, it tapered off as they slowly started to set the ground rules. It would be a three-way partnership, with no one directly answering to anyone else. Oracle would provide Canary and Huntress with information, and they would act on it and report back. Finally, Oracle wheeled off to start a journal or something.

Dinah knew her moment. "How's Nathaniel?"

Helena smiled. "Neutral, as usual. He's like a really nice color beige."

"He's blue."

"I mean, personality-wise. It's comforting."

"I don't think love is supposed to be comforting."

"It's better than agonizing."

Silence.

"So...how's the face-less wonder?"

"Why should I know?"

"Cause you were his creepy girlfriend for a while. Some of the League tell me he's slipped even farther into isolation. Barely comes out of his room anymore."

"Oh, he comes out, alright."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

_...but I can't be in love with you anymore._

_Love, Vic_


	4. Intergrade

Awww...shucks. I got reviews for last chapter. is shocked

Yes! Birds of Prey. It was the formation of a new world order. It also was written because...gasp I've decided that after this story, though the trilogy will be finished, I'll prolly still write stories for this universe. That I've created. You know. Yeah.

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_Dear Helena..._

Huntress looked around the dark alley. She'd been sure that she'd seen him.

_...this whole forgetting you thing..._

Finally, a shadow stirred and a figure stepped into her path. Huntress stood her ground.

"Why are you following me?" He asked.

Huntress smiled. "Bats, baby, I just love to irritate you."

_...not really working out..._

"I know that. That doesn't explain why you're following me."

"You heard the news about Bludhaven? Wait, I forgot who I was talking to. Of course you've heard the news. You're an anal retentive collector of all forms of knowledge."

"Compliments will get you nowhere."

_...not that I didn't try..._

"So, moving on, Nightwing is missing. What are we doing about it?"

"There is no we."

"Look, I know you're not telling anyone anything that's going on in your head right now. Both Robin and Oracle are worried, but they don't wanna approach. I'm rude. Tell me what goes down in that winged rat brain of yours."

Batman merely stared.

"Okay. Not winged rat. Bat. What's going on in that Bat brain of yours?"

"Why would I confide in you?"

"Because I used to love him, and you don't have to worry about me telling anyone that you cried, since it's a foregone conclusion I'd keep it to myself to blackmail you with later?"

_...I tried really hard..._

Again, no answer.

"Alfred tells me that you've spent every waking moment looking for him. Wouldn't it be a better consumption of energies to work together?"

"What information could you have that I don't?"

"You forget I'm not the squeaky clean hero you are. I have ties to the dark side, Han. I can talk to people you can't. Well...you can't without threatening them and making them too scared to really talk so you end up dropping them from the roof in frustration."

"That happened once."

"And I saw...this all circles back to the blackmail thing."

"Obviously."

_...I even counted Skittles to try and get my mind off you..._

"Look, let's lay the cards on the...dirty, dank, and dim alley floor. I want to find him. Not for myself. For Oracle. She loves him. She's worried. Due to circumstances, she can't get out there and do the footwork to find him. I'm doing it for her. Since I know you have lingering feelings or guilt or duty to her, you're going to help me. Got it?"

Batman glared. Huntress knew she'd won. "So...since we're partners...can I drive the Batmobile?"

"No."

"The Batplane?"

"No."

"Can I push the machine that makes those "Bam!" and "Bop!" words appear onscreen?"

"No."

"Damn. You're no fun."

_...okay, I'd have counted the Skittles anyways..._

Batman and Huntress stood on the roof and watched as Franco Carmine, a small time mobster in Bludhaven left the known mafia meeting club and headed for his car. The couple stood in shadows, and their eyes, the coldness in them, was exactly the same. Batman knew that Nightwing had been taken down sometime two nights ago. Huntress knew through her underground meta-connections that Nightwing had been going after the mob connections in the Bludhaven Zoo. Carmine was that connection.

Using the Zoo as a cover, Carmine brought in big game, then sold the beast to the highest bidder to be hunted down. Already, three lions, two jaguars, and oddly enough, a walrus had been found dead on Zoo premises. Since the last "hunt" had also included the fatal shooting of the security guard, Nightwing had swooped in to start investigating. One week later, he was missing. Oracle had a theory that Carmine was graduating to big game Human hunting. With Nightwing as the premier prey.

Huntress and Batman were here to see if tonight would be the night Carmine went from medium-sized evilness to king-sized, and to take him down when he did.

_...but that doesn't meant I didn't count extras to occupy my mind..._

Carmine didn't go to the Zoo, as he had all the nights before. This time he drove to a small cottage near one of the cliffs Bludhaven was famous for. No, wait. Bludhaven was famous for having a worse crime-rate than Gotham. So. Cliffs that Bludhaven was second best known for.

Huntress and Batman followed in the Batplane (Huntress eagerly eyeing everything and getting her hand slapped every couple minutes and told not to touch anything), landing quietly soon after Carmine had entered the cottage. As they waited, the night lengthened and became darker.

_...I love Skittles..._

Finally, the real action began. With a loud bang, a back door opened and a dark figure ran into the night. Away from the road. Into the dark, dangerous forest. For some reason, Huntress had the urge to start chanting "lions and tigers and bears, oh my". Somehow she restrained herself.

Huntress's first instinct was to take after the figure, but Batman and she already knew who it was. Nightwing. Instead, they remained in hiding in the forest. They waited for the hunter(s) to appear. They didn't wait long.

_...even if they do corrupt DNA and cause disease..._

The Joker, Batman's archenemy, and Harley Quinn, his paramour and resident psycho-girl, stepped out. The Joker held only what appeared to be a cane, but Harley, as usual, had a very large gun (though to be honest it's sometimes substituted with a large bazooka).

Batman leaned over and whispered into Huntress's ear, "I'll take Joker, you take Harley."

Huntress whispered back. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do I get the girl? I'm all for equal treatment, but I can as easily kick the Joker's ass as you can."

"Because I said."

"You aren't Simon, so why should I listen?"

"Because if you don't I'll hurt you."

"Big talk from a guy in head to toe leather. I ain't nobody's bitch."

Batman sighed, and ignoring her, leaped from the shadows and at the Joker. It left Harley to Huntress, who was slightly insulted to be paired with easily beaten girl.

_...I long ago immunized myself against it, so I can indulge..._

Huntress dodged to the left as the comically large sized bullets from Harley's gun slammed into the trees behind her. Rolling towards Harley, Huntress came up in a handstand and hit the clown on the chin, sending her flailing back into the cabin. A few short but sweet hits to the head ensured she was out for now.

Huntress turned back to the Joker and Batman, who were, as weekly, indulging in an "epic" battle. The Joker laughed maniacally and ran circles around Batman, who stood there and let him. Finally Batman threw out his arm, slamming the grinning man to the ground and onto a rock, which also knocked him unconscious.

Huntress smiled. "Why must the genius criminal masterminds be so stupid?"

_...if you'd like, I'd immunize you too..._

It took two hours to track down Nightwing, who was infected with some sort of hallucinogen and didn't recognize anyone. After three fights and nearly falling off a cliff, Batman restrained the man and drugged him into sleep. Tonight was a night for unconsciousness.

"So...we made a good team, Bats."

"Do not call me Bats."

"Aww...but you need a nickname. Batman is so lame."

He didn't reply. Placing Nightwing in the passenger seat of the Batplane, Batman gave a small salute to Huntress before getting into the driver's seat and starting to take off.

"Wait! I was kidding! How am I getting back?"

No response. Huntress sighed. Then felt the cool metal of the nozzle of a gun press into her neck. "Don't move."

Carmine. Forgot all about him.

_...you'd have to call me though..._

Huntress slowly turned to Carmine, who'd hidden himself in the cabin until all the fighting was over. Huntress's better than average hearing told her sirens were heading this way. Carmine didn't hear them.

"Get in the car."

"What car?"

"That car."

"I'm not getting in that car."

"Why not?"

"It's a Ford."

"So?"

"I'm a Chevrolet girl."

"Get in the car," Carmine said with a renewed pressing of gun. Huntress brought her hand up in a movement too fast to track and knocked the gun away. Carmine stared at her. He turned to flee and Huntress brought up her high heeled foot to kick him in the head. He flew into the door, knocking it off the hinges. Joker and Harley were still unconscious. As the first police car raced into the small field in which the cottage resided, Huntress merged with the shadows and disappeared into the forest. She hated cops.

_Love, Vic._


	5. Idolatry

A/N...Hi all. So. I been busy. I read the Huntress/Batman series "Cry for Blood" which some of you might not know it, but it involves Huntress getting framed for murders and Question comes in and saves her ass from both Bats (ass) and Nightwing (betrayer). There's lots of great Huntress/Question moments, so it's highly recommended in my mind. I loved the ending, so I won't spoil it for you! For those of you that have read it, you'll prolly see how much it influenced me in the writing of this chapter.

(Am entertaining thoughts to doing a novelization of it after I finish this one).

(But if I did, it would prolly be anti-Bats...I hate him. I can't help it. He's so mean to my Helena. Yes. That's the only reason I dislike him.)

The ending of this chapter made me a little teary-eyed. My only excuse is that I'm PMSing. Leave me be.

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_Dear Helena..._

Helena couldn't sleep. She wasn't used to being in bed this early. Seriously, it was only three a.m. What the hell was she doing in bed?

_...I met an old friend of yours on the Watchtower today..._

Ah, now she remembered. Thinking. Waxing nostalgic. Tormenting herself. Usually at this time of night, Huntress was in full swing of her ass-kicking style. If this were a normal night, she'd be out somewhere beating a rapist's head in. If she was lucky, she'd be half-drowning a murderer. Never fully drowning. Huntress rarely crossed that final line, and never had in Gotham. Not with her own two hands. She had crossed it. No one, not even...Question...knew it. Guilt is a powerful motivator when erasing your past.

_...a nice little sharpshooter, sent to replace Green Arrow, named Arsenal..._

She'd met Nathaniel's parents today. Maybe that was why she was so restless. Captain Atom, her current beau, was a W.A.S.P. Something she most definitely was not. Apparently, he'd neglected to tell his parents. What a lovely image that made. The Sicilian former Mob Princess dining at the Mini-White House with people who think they're the crème de la crème. Helena could still imagine the sneer that had crossed Mrs. Adams face when she'd told them she taught in a public school. That had been the only sign that they didn't approve. Otherwise, it was all quite cordial and polite. Nate, as usual, was oblivious to the tension. Helena hadn't been comfortable.

There was a chance it was all in her head. She'd gone expecting the worse, and had found a nice veneer covering what she thought was the worse. She might have imagined it. She should probably give them a second chance.

Helena Bertinelli didn't give second chances. In her mind, the Adams were bad. Not Evil. Not Batman. But bad. She didn't tell Nate that. She smiled and said they were nice, and he didn't notice the hesitation. He was oblivious to much.

_...he told me many nice stories..._

The first blood to cover her hands had been that of her uncle and warden, and the cousin who'd long protected her. Her cousin who had taught her everything she knew; about weapons, about defense, about secrecy, about life. Most importantly, about family; the Family.

Salvatore Asaro, her cousin, and his father, Nicola Asaro, took Helena in after her family had died. Been murdered by Mandragora. The last living Bertinelli, of course they took her in. Think of the prestige of hosting the child who would one day become the first Capo de tutti Capi. Boss of bosses. Supposedly, Helena was to be the first female Capo. She'd made it clear as a child she didn't want it. Fortunately, the adults took it to heart, and thereafter let her grow as she will. If any of the Five Families of Gotham thought she was out to take her father's former seat, they'd kill her in a heartbeat. It was the Family way.

First blood. Asaro blood. She'd taken it, because as Family, she'd had to. It'd happened when she was fourteen...

_...he took me drinking..._

Sometimes the blood still called to her. Wanted her to take out the harsh criminals she faced at night. She didn't give in, but the urge was there. It was the urge that Batman identified with, and what made him distrust her so. Batman didn't like Huntress, because she was what he was inside. Violent, angry, and dangerous. He could hide behind his cowl and preach justice, but for him, it was the same as for her. Death. The final justice. Eye for an eye, and a knife in your throat. He didn't give in. Huntress didn't either, but it was a fact he liked to forget.

Helena moved under her sheets, hot despite the AC, and didn't want to follow where her thoughts were taking her. She didn't like thinking about her motivations to please Batman. Such an arrogant and hateful man, and she wanted him...proud of her. It wasn't really him she wanted that pride from, though, and the psychologist in her knew that she was mentally placing him in a father role, since she'd lost her's so long ago. Damn college and requiring a psych course. Like she didn't have enough analyzers around her anyways.

So Batman was her father figure. What a sucky father figure. Angry, silent, and sulky. Rather like her real father. Helena didn't remember much of her real family, besides the odd little déjà vu. Her mother had worn Chanel No. 5, and her father smoked Cuban cigars. Her big brother had been shot in the face. Two closed coffins. Only her mother could have an open one. Helena had long wondered if the deliberation had been determined by the person who'd hired Mandragora. She'd never found out who had. One day, she would. Final justice. Batman and his code be damned.

_...I never knew you could bend like that..._

Helena had killed her cousin Sal and her uncle Nicola. Not with her hands, not close, but the blood was on them anyways. A gun. Sharpshooter. Third gun Sal had taught her to use. They'd known it was coming. The Family didn't stay in prison. They got out, anyway they could. For the assassin family, it was the hard way. Helena was Family, even adopted, so the duty fell to her. No one else would or could do it.

It'd been the first and last time Huntress had killed. No one knew that. She'd maimed, injured, crippled, and horrifically mutilated (okay, having no nose isn't so horrific but the guy she'd done it to was probably still screaming). She didn't kill. Huntress was saving that last step for one person.

_...it'd be interesting to see it in person..._

Nathaniel wasn't here. He had night duty on the Watchtower. Helena had bid him goodbye hours ago, with a promise to get some sleep. She looked haggard. Tired. Wasting away. All terms Nate had used to describe her, which she'd thanked him for. What a lovely boyfriend to tell her such things.

Helena knew what was wrong, but she didn't know what to do about it. Helena had long ago made a code for herself. She didn't forget, and she didn't forgive. No second chances. She'd never been given them, so she never gave them out. Helena had a hard life and she wasn't going to make anyone else's easier.

Helena fingered the tiny cross she wore at her throat. It was miniscule. Really a baby's cross, but she'd never been able to give it up. Like most Sicilians, she'd been raised a devout Catholic. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost her faith. Faith wasn't why she was wearing the cross. It'd been Question's as a child. The only thing he had from his real family. He'd given it to her.

Was she an idiot for not hating him? She could have a good life with Nathaniel. A nice life. A normal life. She could give up crime-fighting, have a few babies, and do the suburban thing. Maybe actually keep a teaching job past a year.

Helena flipped over a couple more times in bed, and admitted to a small part of herself, that that life was one she'd dreamed of as a child. No late night meetings, no presents from Uncles she'd never met. No forced attendance to big dinners held at the Capo's house.

It wasn't what she wanted now. Helena liked her life. The violence and the blood. The late hours. She even liked the blood.

_...with me, though. Not with Arsenal..._

Helena didn't give second chances.

_...I'm so jealous, I can't even see the Skittles anymore..._

Not to anyone.

_...help me..._

Not to him.

_...Love, Vic_

Not to herself.


	6. Indecision

Okay, so...big news. This is the second to last chapter. Making next chapter, not only the last chapter of this story, but the culmination of the trilogy. WOOT WOOT! I recommend going back and reading from the beginning to end, just to capture that good nostalgia.

* * *

_Helena..._

She really didn't want to be here, but when two of your good friends and your boyfriend ask you to attend, you're not really allowed to tell them all to fuck off. Not that Helena hadn't tried. She had. Nathaniel had taken great pleasure in spanking her for it. Yes, it was as entertaining as it sounded.

The invitation read like the beginning of a movie. _You're cordially invited to the indoctrination of the Hall of Heroes. The first museum dedicated to the memories of the heroes who have fallen before. Black-tie wear is expected, dinner served at eight. Please RSVP._ What the hell does RSVP stand for? Does anyone know? No. No they don't.

Helena forced a smile at the many paparazzi mobbing the entrance and did the glam clutching of her sexy bright blue boyfriend's arm. Though "black-tie" was required, most of the 'heroes' invited still wore their masks. Helena had worn her mask, but added a deep-cut velour dress to it. Who wants to wear a leotard in daylight?

_...you looked beautiful..._

"There's Canary. We're seated with her." Nathaniel said, though it really wasn't necessary. Helena hated people who said the obvious. She sighed and followed him as he wound his way through the crowd. Politicians (was that the President?), celebrities (Angelina's first appearance since baby, with Brad on her arm no less), and heroes frolicked about and pow-wowed. Helena fought back a laugh at the sight of some third-rate model trying to climb into Batman's suit...with him still in it.

Dinah wasn't looking too good. She hadn't really wanted to come either, but like Helena, the choice had been taken from her. Wildcat, her mentor, was being honored as a Golden Age hero (that is...old), and Green Arrow was getting a spot too. Someone had to be here to accept the post-humous plaque in his honor. Superman was here to do most of the post-humous taking, but he'd requested that Black Canary do it for Arrow, since his death was the most recent and still dear to the news harbingers. The shot of Dinah, Arrow's paramour, accepting the plaque would be plastered all over the newspapers tomorrow, and another round of flowers and false condolences would arrive that morning to Dinah's (or rather Helena's) apartment. Helena would field the calls until Dinah felt up to hanging up on them herself.

In a rare moment of affection, Helena sat beside Dinah and placed her hand over her friend's. "You gonna be okay?"

Dinah smiled bitterly. "I could ask the same of you. He's here, you know."

"Who?" Nate asked as he finally stopped eyeing the crowd and sat down across from them.

The two girls smiled and said nothing, and Helena took the chance to admire her boyfriend's taste in clothes. Or lack of. A blue tux? On a blue man? Helena had fought a grimace when he'd picked her up for this stupid event. Dinah, knowing what she was thinking, stifled a laugh and patted the back of Helena's hand.

"Well, Captain Atom, you look spiffy," Dinah commented as she sent a hand signal to a passing waiter for another gin and tonic.

Nathaniel, Captain Atom, smiled and replied candidly, "This is my prom tux." Can anyone say nausea? Helena couldn't even remember her prom, though that likely had more to do with getting drunk than with the non-existence of memorable times.

Helena smiled and reached out to poke him in the arm. "Still fits?"

"Yeah."

"So you were small even then?"

"More like I was a strapping man even then."

"You wish."

"Actually, you do."

"Don't I know it."

Dinah smiled, a real one this time, and lightly clapped her hands. "Now kids...let's save all that love for the dance floor."

Nate smiled, and stood, holding his hand out to Helena. "Let's dance."

Throwing a glare at Dinah, Helena stood and took his hand. She let him pull her onto the dance floor.

_...even if you were with him..._

They danced to a slow waltz, and Helena deliberately trod on his toes. When another dreary waltz followed the last, Nate didn't let her leave the floor, but kept turning to the music. Finally (someone obviously interceded with the crotchety DJ, most like the Flash, whose mentor, also the Flash, was getting a memorial), a saucy tango came on. Helena wanted to get off the dance floor even more.

Nathaniel proved an able dancer, even if he did make faces at her at odd moments and make her laugh. Halfway through, a tap on his shoulder caused them to pause before a shadowy figure took Nathaniel's place and swung Helena around to the music. It was Nightwing.

"Hello Huntress."

"Hello Dick."

Nightwing smiled and threw a loving look to Oracle who was currently at a table with Superman, Batman, and Green Lantern, having what looked like a serious talk. Girl couldn't even leave business at home for one day. "Enjoying yourself?"

"I'd rather stick a hot poker in my eye."

"That can be arranged."

Helena smacked Nightwing in the head in a smooth move when he dipped her to the music, and twisted his fingers when he raised her again and started to move across the floor. He grimaced, but they both kept dancing. Helena wouldn't begrudge him this dance, since it was impossible for his love to actually dance with him. Though, from the looks of the fiery alien across the room in a bright purple dress, others wouldn't mind dancing with him. Helena didn't mention Starfire watching them, but then again, this was Batman's former protégé so he probably knew.

Speaking of Batman's protégé...

"Can I cut in?" A slightly boy-ish, but ever deepening voice asked from slightly below Nightwing. Helena glanced over Dick's shoulder and saw Robin standing there in all his red/green/black glory. She smiled broadly and pushed Nightwing away.

"Finally, a man with style," Helena said as she took the teen's hands and slowly (he was a novice dancer and also about six inches shorter) danced away from Nightwing. Helena smiled, and realized that the poor kid was probably blushing since he was in prime place to look right down her dress. Which he was. Eh. "Must be my night for the Batclan. You're the second one to dance with me tonight."

"It's cause you look hot."

"Well thank you, Timmy. You're such a charmer."

Tim grinned and winked at her, before throwing his chin in the direction of Batman. "I had to blackmail him to get him to come tonight. As Batman, you know?"

Helena nodded, and took in a fleeting glimpse of a blue (almost purple) fedora and suit, but refused to turn her head to get a better glance. Self-control, baby. "How's Speedy?"

Speedy, Arrow's 'sidekick', was also Robin's teammate on the Teen Titans. This was something Helena really knew only because Robin liked to keep in touch with her through e-mail. Other than Nightwing, Robin was one of the few Batclan who was her friend, and for a kid, he was a damn good one. He was also really smart and good with computers, something she'd needed when she'd gotten that damn TiVo. If it takes two hundred pages to explain how to use something, then why the hell do we bother buying it? Helena didn't know, but at least now she got to watch her soaps again. Goddamn you, Ethan, you know Theresa loves you.

Helena shook her head, and let go of Robin as the music ended. As a young woman with long blonde hair and a Wonder-Woman-esque costume walked up and took his hand for a dance, Helena slipped into the crowd and searched out a nice dark hallway to seclude herself in for awhile.

She gave a small wave to Nate and Dinah where they sat drinking champagne, and wordlessly told them that she'd be back. It took a little effort but she found an empty hallway, much cooler than the ever-more-crowded ballroom, and leaned her bare back against the wall just inside the corner.

_...I never realized you danced so well..._

Slowly, she became aware of footsteps walking up the hallway, around the corner. They stopped just outside of her view, so she stayed where she was. She was rather enjoying the silence, and didn't really want to make the forced small-talk with some member of the Justice League, who though they wouldn't admit it, was probably glad she'd been kicked out.

Whoever it was, didn't speak. Didn't move. Just a shadow lying on the floor, next to her's. A familiar shadow.

He slowly held out a flower, just to the side of her, so that she could see it, but not see him. Hiding, always hiding. Helena wished he'd just say what he wanted. She didn't speak, though, didn't accuse, didn't rage, didn't cry, didn't love. She took the flower in trembling fingers, and waited and watched as his shadow left her's. Left her alone.

A pink rose, fresh from a garden, with dew still on its petals. Helena rubbed those teardrops against her lips, and let her eyes flutter shut as she remembered. Many things passed through her mind, but she merely put the flower on a side table and started to leave.

She didn't leave it long, but turned and after a long hard look, picked it up again. She wanted to keep it.

_...maybe we'll dance together one day..._

The rest of the night was a blur, but a hard-edged one, where she noted the details, but couldn't really put them in order. She remembered Dinah standing and silently accepting the plaque, before returning to her seat, where she silently cried. She remembered Atom clapping loudly and smiled that big white smile as every still-alive honoree accepted the plaques, and as the committee opened the public rooms full of memorials for past heroes, and current ones. She remembered fleeting fingers on her back in the crush of the crowd as she went from room to room.

Soon, the night was over. Many things ended that night.

_...Love, Vic._


	7. Ignus Fatuus

And this is it. The finale. The final chapter of the final story of the trilogy. hums the dun Dun DUN!

I'm a bit sad. This is one of my favorite projects. I had the more fun with this than I did on many of my other projects. It was a real experience for me. I hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I did. I'll be writing a short retrospective at the bottom, explaining some of the themes and gags I had going to you. Some of you will recognize them and already know WHY I did them, and some of you are prolly a little oblivious to the nuances, but won't be after this.

Anyways, special thanks to Kerianne and all the other JLU authors who write such great stories and took the time to read this. Y'all are great.

* * *

_Dear Helena..._

She shut the front door behind her and dropped the small sequined purse on the side table. In the shadows ahead of her, Nathaniel removed his overcoat and dropped it over the armchair, before sprawling himself in the chair itself. She ignored how hooded and guarded his eyes were after tonight's party. Helena placed the small rose on the table beside her purse and wearily walked to the sofa opposite him, slowly sitting herself on the edge. As she leaned back, legs crossed underneath the long skirt, her arms spread out on the back of the sofa, she studied him as he studied her.

Finally, he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, staring at her with an emotion in his eyes Helena didn't recognize. "If I asked you not to go, would you?"

"Go where?"

"Don't play."

_...I'll try to remember you as you were tonight..._

"Would you really ask me that?"

Nathaniel nodded. "I would. Would it do any good? If I asked?"

Helena finally recognized that emotion that lurked in the deep irises in his eyes; resignation, a hint of desperation, and mostly love. It hurt her to see them there, knowing what she was going to do. "Would you bargain for me, Nate?"

"I would."

Helena smiled bitterly. "Would you beg?"

"No."

She nodded. "He did, you know. He begged."

"Don't go."

"I thought you wouldn't ask."

"I didn't ask. I'm saying. Don't go."

"It's not as easy as that."

Nathaniel hung his head. "It's as easy as just that."

_...so strong and beautiful, and defiant through it all..._

Helena stood and crossed to him, kneeling and looking into his eyes. "Not for me. I've tried, Nate. I've tried so hard." She could feel tears burning at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She was stronger than that. "I didn't want it anymore. That life. I wanted to change. For you. But I'm standing here and looking around and the only one changing is you."

He shook his head. "I'm not changing."

She smiled. "You are. For me. I thought that you would make me better, but I'm making you worse. My demons are my own, and I don't want to share them like you want to. I'm a vigilante, you're a hero. I tried to be a hero once, hell, twice! It doesn't work for me."

"And him? How does he fit into this?"

Helena stood and moved to the window, where teenagers had broken the streetlights, making everything dark. "He's mine."

"I'm yours."

"No. You're your own. You were never mine."

"Because I wouldn't beg?"

"Because the thought didn't even cross your mind."

_...I think I'll always love you in that memory of us dancing..._

Nathaniel stood and crossed to her, wrapping large hands around her arms, forcibly turning her to look at him. "Tell me the real reason. Tell me why. I want to understand. We could be so good together. We could work."

Helena smiled and patted his cheek. "We could. We'd work because one or both of us would compromise, would bend to the other. I love him, and I don't bend, and neither does he. He is who he is."

Nathaniel grit his teeth. "Stop speaking in riddles. Tell me!"

Helena glared at him. "Because I choose to. Because it's what I want. I'm tired of pretending to be someone I'm not." She pushed him back, causing him to stumble. "I like violence. I like hurting criminals. I like meting out my justice with my fists. I think the best way to solve a bad situation is violence. You don't. You don't understand that. You don't understand me."

"I can try."

Helena laughed, and it hurt him to hear it. "I don't want you to."

Silence.

_...in my arms tonight you were the woman I wanted you to be..._

Nathaniel stared at her with new eyes, finally realizing that she truly wasn't the sarcastic but nice little schoolteacher he met those months ago. All this time, he'd thought that Huntress was a role, and Helena was always underneath, being true. Nathaniel stared at her, shadowed even by the window, and realized for the first time that Helena was the role, and that Huntress always lurked underneath, tainting all her actions and thoughts. She wasn't who he wanted her to be, and she was refusing to even try.

Picking up his overcoat, Nathaniel left her apartment. He didn't look back.

_...the woman I thought I would love..._

His apartment building looked the same it had last time she'd been here. Dilapidated in a charming way. There was an air of desperation and depression in this part of Hub City, one that coated everything, from the trees to the buildings to the people. Helena didn't truly like it here, but she had to come.

Even from outside his door, she knew he wasn't home. There was emptiness to the hallway, as if there were no eyes watching. Helena stretched up, reaching for the small light bulb above his doorway, one that hadn't lit up for many years. She slowly unscrewed the bulb, and dashed it against the wall. Inside laid a small metal key. She picked it up and let herself into his apartment.

Shutting the door behind her, she moved across the living room, by memory. A small flick of her fingers on the wall switch had the overhead light coming on. It looked exactly as she remembered.

A pile of old newspapers in the corner, and a wall of files. Not laying about, but meticulously organized onto bookshelves. Somewhere underneath the many crumbled up papers was a Persian Rug worth several thousand dollars. Helena stooped down and picked up one of the crumbled up papers. She pulled it open, and smiled. _Dearest Helena_, all scratched out. Apparently, he tried hard on those letters.

She stood again, and worked her way to the kitchen, where the vague smell of oleanders wafted from.

_...I realize now that I was in love with an idea..._

The kitchen was almost spotless compared to the living room. He'd never been able to stand messes in here, where he ate. The flower smell was coming from the fresh oleanders he bought at the corner florist every morning when he came back from his run. One morning, not long after their first "date", he'd done indecent things to her with one of those oleanders. Fond memories.

Helena opened the fridge and removed one of the beers nestled in his door. She popped it open, and sidled around the kitchen island, thoughtlessly strumming her fingers on the white tile counter. She sat down on one of the chairs at his table, and kicked her feet onto the table.

Was she really making the right decision? Coming here? Abandoning all progress she'd made? What about Nathaniel? She'd hurt him, she knew, and she couldn't really find it in her to truly care beyond a vague guilty feeling. Of course, this really just proved once and for all that she wasn't a good person, and would most likely never truly be one.

Finishing the beer, she set it on the table, knowing that leaving it there would drive him crazy. It was almost three a.m. by her reckoning, and she cracked her back as she stood. She was so tired, her body screaming for sleep, her mind craving dreams as a way to escape this oh so stressful situation.

_...that wasn't fair to you..._

Helena smiled and made her way to his bedroom, the last place she had to search looking for him, though she knew that if he had been here, he'd have confronted her by now.

His bedroom was perhaps the most chaotic place of his apartment, being the only place where he didn't really work. There were clothes on the floor, on the chairs, and on the ceiling fan. His bed was a mass of rumpled burgundy, and his closet door was broken, and had been for as long as she could remember.

Helena idly started to bend over and pick up the dirty clothes, throwing them in the direction of where a laundry basket most likely was. She didn't pay much attention, and before she knew it, she'd cleaned up all the dirty clothes from his room. There was a five foot high pile of them in the corner.

She stood, her back aching from being bent over so much, and sat down heavily onto the side of the bed. It was almost pitch black in his room, but she didn't mind. Her head was aching so much she doubted she could handle the light.

His sheets smelled of him, a mixture of his own unique scent and, ironically, Obsession for Men. Helena laid back and reveled in that scent, something she'd dreamed of for weeks. His bed was so soft that before she knew it, she'd curled up in those darks sheets in that dark room, and fell asleep.

_...I recognize everything I've done wrong, and I don't blame you anymore..._

Hours later, almost dawn, and the sound of the front door opening had her eyes opening. She was so groggy that that was about all she could do. It took her a few minutes to even become aware of where she was, and by the time she did, he was in the doorway. She turned over, gazing into the shadows where he stood, and said nothing.

He reached up and removed the mask he'd worn twenty-four hours a day since she'd left, as if by not having his own face to look into, he wouldn't have to face his own failure. Victor Sage, the Question, removed that mask and tossed it aside. He removed the blazer he wore and moved to the side of the bed where she lay half-asleep.

With trembling hands, he touched her cheek. She smiled. "Where ya been?"

"Work."

She nodded, turned her face into his hand, her eyes already falling back into sleep. Vic watched as she drifted off, then crawled in beside her, relishing the feel of her back in his bed and his life. He didn't need explanations, he was the Question. He didn't want explanations, because she was his Huntress. Between the two of them, words were un-needed.

Finally, he smiled and slept again, and for the first time in weeks, nay, months, he dreamed.

Helena smiled in her sleep, for he'd forgotten to take off his fedora and the feather tickled her nose.

_...I think part of me will always love you, but I'm happy knowing that you're happy.__  
Love, Nathaniel

* * *

_

**Retrospective**

Wow, this is one good trilogy, if I do say so myself, and I do.

Now, some of you may wonder why for the triangle I chose to do Question/Huntress/Captain Atom. Well, it's easily explained. Captain Atom is smexy. And Southern. Both very important factors with me. Yes. That's the reason. It was mostly an attraction on my part to him that made me choose him. I could also see how Helena would be attracted to him. So straight-laced and polite. She'd want to rattle him and shake him up. She'd delight in the destruction she'd wrought in his psyche.

Why Huntress? Because I love her. She'd one of the most flawed but fun to play with characters. She's not a hero, and I hope she never becomes one. She's unapologetically a vigilante, letting her emotions rule her. I wanted to see what would happen if her "never forgive, never forget" mentality strayed over into her love life. She's not a forgiving woman, even if the morality behind the actions were good. I put her in a situation where she would have to doubt herself and those around her, and I wanted to make her react how she almost certainly would. Finally, I wanted her to learn forgiveness, but never enough to corrupt her character. After all, Huntress cares most for Huntress.

Ah, Question. Sweet Question. I loves him. 'Nuff said.

Now, why a trilogy? Because such a good story can't be told in just one story. We have to stretch it out, make y'all sweat. Mostly, because I really wanted to have a prequel in there, one where Huntress was in Captain Atom's position. See the differences in how they react? Their motives are identical in the prequel and this sequel. They both want love, and they don't care if their loves are already in love. Huntress accepted the truth, and didn't care. Atom chose to ignore it, and hope for the best. In the end, everyone ended up hurt or where they should be.

Why the Shakespearian titles? Because what are comics if not melodramas of both comedic and dramatic suspense? Who better to allude to?

Why the "I" chapters? Honestly, I have no idea. It just happened. I could tell some bullshit story about how Huntress is all about herself and that's the connection to the "I" but it's not. It was random. Completely.

The chapter title here? It's probably the basic definition for everyone's motive in this story. Let's hope some of you figure out what it means.

And that's it. This is the end.

Not of the universe I've created here, but of this story. It's complete. Makes a girl sad.


End file.
